Killer Instinct: Whispers
by Galbelmz
Summary: Drabbles of Killer Instinct. Quick reads that add to better understand the big picture of the story. Enjoy Note:This image was created with permission from Emberclaw. For permission to use this image/request for others, please PM me.
1. First Winter

Autumn gives its last silent cough and winter takes its first step. People takes winter is a deadly beauty – it gives and takes. But in a certain case, in a certain time it became an assassin's mentor. It became a giver of a miracle. On the first day of winter, the dark forest had a blizzard. And in the heart of it was a still-blind mouse. Barely a day old, in fact, it was already attempting to crawl across the deep snow. Weakly it made for a cave created by a rock formation. With a gasp I pulled itself into the cave and curled tightly into a ball.

The young mouse howled despairingly, blood-stained paws tucked in. Its blood-red eyes suddenly burst open. Perhaps due to pure willpower that its eyes had opened prematurely, but the outcome would have a devastating effect in the future. Nevertheless, its eyes could see, though they were reduced to slits. A huge advantage or rather, a current gain for a loss that would come. The first colour the mouse saw was crimson red, the blood flowing through a huge gash at its left paw. That was the colour that drove the mouse on in his life, and the colour he would encounter more later. For now he had much-needed rest.

Not for long.

A lone shadow crept across the façade, and for some reason the mouse knew it was there. HE was there, it corrected. Judging its distance with a wit far greater than expected it, the mouse crounched down and waited. He was the target, it realized, so he must play its game well at least.

The male adult mouse came in a flurry, the knife (crimson again, it stated) striking the snow next to me. For some reason the bitter cold tore its left eyes open and it leaped.

With clumsiness (in spite of its graceful dumb-luck jump) it hobbled to a sight and lunged forward. The adult mouse seized the chance to slice a strip of its target's ear off – yet after enduring the sheer cold this was nothing was crimson. It grabbed the knife, turned slowly and stabbed it into its attacker's chest. Spluttering its assassin jabbed it repeatedly. It let its now-victim do it.

It knew the mouse would bleed to death.

Calculations would become a part of its complex mind but for now it thought of death. Its counterpart writhed, gave up and relaxed. The pool of crimson blood was spreading outside the cave, it noted. That could be gotten rid of soon. Afterwards it required a scout of the area and conditions. The mouse began to form a plan of what to do – something a normal mouse would do in 30 days. At 1 day it understood the ruthless world and its requirements to survive. Failure was unacceptable. Wiping its cut (and wincing) with fresh snow it used the knife to "force" the blood out. With a satisfied nod it dragged the dead mouse to a side, piling it up with dry twigs. _Burial. _ Its instinct instructed. With untrained accuracy it needed a lot of tries to completely bury (yes, bury, it registered, following its instinct) the mouse. Finally it formed a make-shift shovel and grinded out the crimson snow carefully, leaving it a good distance from the cave.

Done! The young mouse was about to drift into sleep when its left eye spotted something sticking out of the snow. Curiously it dug it out. It featured a...an unknown object with...symbols? It stared at the object's first side. It has the crimson colour with a word next to it. Hmm...there's alphabets! The mouse, somehow, jolted another instinct of understanding. Peering curiously, it thought a while and mumbled.

"Cream-sa-on...crim-sa-on...crim-saom...crim-son...crimson...crimson..."

A week later

The mouse celebrated (with acorns) his 1-week-and-1-day anniversary with a feast or what it seemed like. Smiling it flipped open the book (yes, I remembered!)and said fluently, "Killer – someone who causes a living thing to die by intentional methods. Instinct – a force which comes naturally that drives a living thing to do something."

He grinned, reached out a paw and wrote two words in the snow.

"Killer Instinct."


	2. Irony

Oh what a cyanide surprise's in store for you.

The dagger's glinting in the pool of blood

If this is murder it's a beauty too

I wanna bring out sorrow in floods

The grim reaper's here to take your soul

But sometimes it's easier letting go

A choice to join or die is yours, all yours

But hurry up 'cause death's at your door

I hate to tell you that you are doomed

Yet surrender to the darkness is in loom

You don't matter much to me anyway

You're worth nothing more than an hour of a day

I will regret to inform you that you are slow

Therefore death comes quicker in one blow

Let this dagger be your friend

For it shall be your beginning to your end


	3. Death Music

That day, I watched death in its action.

The old tramp was by the river, with his harmonica in hand. With great trepidation, the old king of the prairie brought his crown to his mouth and blew gently. Building the tempo, he ascended to a swift soprano, a ring in the air. Soon he had summoned great beasts who danced in the air, swaying heir hunk bodies to the beat. When the undertone of sadness crept in with cold dread, however, the great beasts departed silently. The plains grew cold, like the winter winds were coming. I tested the air – it was coming. My second winter.

I observed the music turned solemn, dark and mysterious. Then a shed of light peeked through, and a celestial being floated down to Earth. With silver wings that laced its descend and gave a sudden cry. As if shaking something off it began its violent twisting dance, sending a tornado of hurling, ravage wind. Agitated it screeched in fury and clawed at the air. It was glory in the hideous form. The being had a beak and eyes that could pierce the soul at will. With grandour it turned ..then abruptly stopped. Its huge wings paused and sloped down resignedly. A muffled cry rang out, then it whipped around and ascended quickly, darting through the clouds and vanishing from the existence.

The old mouse let go of his harmonica, gave a long sign and slumped against the rocks. With a huff he closed his eyes and remained motionless, eyes losing their once-radiant glow.

That, I recognized, is death in its process, unraveling and beauty.


	4. Third Winter (Sequel to First Winter)

It's my third winter. Now a registered member of the rogue association I had began to explore the new world of Transformice. Day after night spent in the digital arena was exhilarating at first before it died down to be subtle curiosity. There I worked hard for cheese.

It's been a year now, and I had fully integrated into the society. Though I have a sturdy tent to stay in I still scour the wilderness, Dark Forest, where my home was. Once in the while in the winter the aurora lights will shine and dance in the sky – that's when I send my prayers to Cheesus, the rumored mice god. I don't know if it's real but it's worth a shot, hm?

I have no one to turn to, yet still I can rely on myself. Working hard reaps lots of digital cheese and cheese from my clients. It's a never-ending process but it's safer than the deep woods. Knowing that makes me long home, instead.

Now in my black thin cloak I walk on in the snow, my shivers slight and numbing. The cold bit down hard but I felt nothing more than a pinch. With little effort I used a spade to dig out the snow. Jagged slanting edges told me enough. It revealed my old cave.

I reached into the snow, fishing out a torn book preserved in frost. The alphabet book, the one that taught me my own name. Smiling at the memories I opened my paw, letting it drop into the snow again. Maybe one day it will house another mouse. It rhythms! I mused, crackling softly. The undercurrent of sadness was evident though…

Finally turning I left the cave, leaving my footsteps as markers that I was here. Soon they would fade out of their wisp of existence by the howling winds. Nodding briefing, I drew my hood down to cover my face. A box of light remained of my vision. Yet when I opened my left, scarred paw and held it high, I felt – and imagined- a delicate snowflake crumple into the palm, a slight shock it gave that woke me up eons ago…

The past is alive.


	5. When sparks flew - a random poem

When sparks few

I met you

A little mouse'

In a big black woods

Like red tiding hood

Without the kind, sweet mood

You stirred up a wind

With the noise-such a din

So I led you along

The way as I could

And you grew up soon

Floating on my balloons

For a time we split up

Parting ways.

But one day

You came back

Even proer than me now

And I cried to the wind

Of happiness

Indeed

- Galbclmz


	6. I was iced - Killer's Thoughts

I let it fall

I let my soulmate fall

Into the depths of the abyss

I steeled my heart

Of solemn understanding

That he was noob

Now I regret

Hell froze over

When I realised

He was pretending

Now as ice freezed my cold heart

I regret

The casing of ice forever surrounding

A stunned me

I was iced


	7. I am fragmented

I am fragmented.

I had a simple life till recent,

My soul united as one.

But recent tides of change bring

A deadly outcome.

The crack began when I was new

To the world out there in sight

The emotions, the waves,

They flooded the heart

And ebbed rocks with its might

The crack grew steadily

A small tear it became

Then with a loud ripping sound

A fissure took its name

The abyss opened

Wide and stiff

The great divide expanding

The thunder split the line further

Along the soul's middle

Then one day

Finally

It could take no longer

Without warning it roared, the ground!

Resounding through bones and flesh

The great earthquake began!

Tumble, rumble,

Jumbling rocks!

A tidal wave of shock!  
Once a great creature there now remained

Two different pieces in dismay.

The soul was cut

Into half

By a dagger called "change".

From then on a battle waged

To decide who should rein

Day after day the sides turned

They took their true forms

One, glorious and powerful

Other, dark and sinister

The fight was on, raging,

Nothing stood in their way.

They tore apart the simple life

And left ruins in their wake.

Now I fear I'm loosing grip

The sides fluctuating but strong

Hell and heaven, light and dark

Both right and wrong

Oh soon, I'll crumble in ashes

The heat's not stopping anytime

My existence is shady, my lost is evident

The soul's war could never end

But me…

I can.

Should I?


End file.
